“Try it, the first one’s for free” she said. Words With Friends app. It was the same with Bejewelled. Now I’m hooked…to both. This is Mr Mother Fudger’s auntie. Damn this stupid Scrabble game. In the 19 minutes a day I have to myself when I’m not cooking, hoovering, picking up mashed up food from the floor the baby or rushing to get the potty for “mummy poo”, I have dedicated this time wisely to finding my next word. If it was alcohol someone would help me.
I am playing 14 games. I think with about five Americans. Even started having a chat with a couple. Of course one wants to know if I live in London. And I have started visualising images of another who blatantly doesn’t understand British humour and I like to think is essentially from My Name is Earl.
This isn’t the start of a post about how I’m now about to move to America and live with a hick. More trying to excuse my lack of writing for a few weeks. But look my highest scoring so far, see all those aspirations I had for my maternity leave are ermm being achieved:
Yes, that was 102 for jean. Who even knew jean without an s was a word.
So excuses aside, I have been a bit slack on here really. Just life and stuff, and child rearing, and Christmas coming, and stuff, and just stuff I guess.
So in other important news, I’m watching Strictly, it’s Saturday night. And crumbs please Claudia CUT YOUR FRINGE. Mr MF is out, so enjoying it without the usual voiceover of grumbles. Grumbles that could be spoken by a 15-year-old boy. In 15 years I’ll have that for real too when the boy child grows.
Blimey the dancers have amazing bodies. No that wasn’t a quote from my husband (well not tonight). Despite losing nearly two and half stone of baby weight so far I’d probably still have to lose another five to have their lithe figures. Bitches. I can’t blame pregnancy for carrying more weight than I should, but alongside the inevitable piling on the pounds, there are so many sacrifices physically to have kids.
Now the boy baby is seven months, I thought I’d try wearing jewellery again this week. Two minutes in, he nearly hypoventilated upon noticing a few chunky beads and went feral to get hold of it. He pulled the necklace so hard he broke it. Who knew I’d birthed Goliath. This is not the first necklace to bite the dust. So last night, I was looking up baby-proof jewellery (yes it does exist). Super strong and not bad looking. Then Mr MF starts poking his nose in and said he didn’t think it was safe. SAFE? Who cares about safety when you want to look a bit nicer. But now I’m thinking maybe he has a point. It promises strength up to a tractor pulling it!!! We all remember the story about my Nana’s auntie who lost her hair when hanging over some kind of loom in a factory at the turn of the century. Well you do in my family. Crumbs, imagine the twisted story of the ever-lasting scar on my neck when my child pulled the necklace that never broke and cheese stringed my flesh.
So that’ll be 2017 before I can wear accessories again then. Probably longer before my pelvic floor returns to normal, at which point old age will kick in and again I will curse myself for ever mocking Tena Lady. Joy.
Crumbs, I have five moves to make in Words With Friends. I really must focus. Happy November.